Four Things Felix Rosier Remembered
by juniperwindsong
Summary: Four crucial moments in Felix Rosier's past, featuring some familiar faces.


**A/N: **This is a small collection of Felix Rosier memory drabbles that answer some questions about his backstory and explain his future actions/character. A slightly darker take on Hogwarts during the HPHM time than what Jam City has explored, since I find it hard to believe student relationships wouldn't have been more adversely affected by the first wizarding war/Voldemort's sudden fall. We as a fandom love to imagine our prefects as best buds for whatever reason, but I think a more tense relationship between the houses is more realistic.  
Some potential triggers: minor language; mentioned/implied child abuse (decidedly non-graphic); mentions of bullying; mentioned character death (canon); unhappy home life.  
If you're here for the ship: I don't personally ship Felix/Chester so their interaction from my perspective is just friendly. But if you're thirsty for that particular pairing, you could read into it with ease.

* * *

**Fall 1980**

"And this is Felix Rosier," the Slytherin prefect says, introducing the first year to the teenagers seated around the fire. "Yes, yes. Of _those_ Rosiers."

Eyes turn to inspect the eleven year old Felix. He's acutely conscious of how short he is compared to the older students.

"Well, don't just stand there," says the prefect with an encouraging smile, motioning Felix to join them. "Come. Sit."

Felix takes stiff steps toward the sofa. When he reaches it, the prefect pats the space next to him and Felix perches straight-backed on the edge of the seat.

The prefect's badge gleams in the firelight. So do his perfect, even teeth as he flashes his dazzling smile again. Felix wonders which of those is the main supplier of the older boy's supreme confidence, and how he, Felix, might go about obtaining it.

"So, you're Evan's...brother?" asks the girl across from him. Her skin and hair are dark, but her eyes are such a light grey they're almost white and painful to look at. They flash as cold and cutting as diamonds.

"Cousin," Felix answers. "But I see him all the time. He stays at our manor most summers."

"_Really_?" the girl drawls, smiling in a way that makes Felix uncomfortable and tapping her cheek with a long black fingernail. "I'd_ love_ to hear more about him."

The boy next to her glances up from his book at this. He eyes the girl disdainfully before warning Felix, "I wouldn't go throwing that bit of information around, if I were you. Unless you want to get yourself hexed."

"What does that mean?" asks Felix confused.

"It means he's a coward," sneers the girl with diamond-like eyes and she flicks the boy with the book hard on the temple. The boy turns on her, snarling. They draw wands so fast Felix barely sees it and he flinches involuntarily.

The prefect intervenes. "Enough," he commands. "We don't eat our own."

The girl and the boy glare at each other, but lower their wands. Felix gazes at the prefect in awe.

The prefect crosses one leg over the other comfortably and addresses Felix. "What he means, Rosier, is that a lot of the students and staff here are related to people your cousin has killed. All in the name of the cause, of course, but still...you're not likely to make friends with anyone outside of the house by dropping his name."

Felix furrows his brow. "I don't understand. Aren't most people on our side now? My father says it's only "the dregs" left."

The diamond-eyed girl chuckles at this. It makes Felix shiver.

"He isn't wrong. But the dregs make up a sizeable proportion of this place," she says scornfully.

When Felix continues to look puzzled, the prefect again interprets. "While the real war may be going in our favour, the school has not yet been cleansed. There are three other houses, each full of mudbloods and traitors who will hex you as soon as look at you just because you wear green. If they find out who your family is-"

"Let's just say, they'll attribute it a less pleasant sort of honour," The girl finishes. She mimes throwing a curse at Felix using her finger as a wand. He flinches again, visibly, and she laughs at him.

"Don't worry, Rosier," the prefect reassures him. "You're in Slytherin now. We're our own family here. We watch out for each other, have each other's backs. Never forget that." He puts an arm around Felix's shoulder and squeezes lightly. "It's why we're the top house."

A tingling warmth spreads through Felix's chest at the physical contact, burning away the nervous tension. The older students continue to chatter, but Felix only half-listens, focused on enjoying the feeling of belonging that he's craved for so long.

**Winter 1980**

"So, you're Felix Rosier," the older boy chuckles, straightening his green and silver tie. "Nearly had it there, didn't you?"

Felix scrambles to his feet, shame burning in his cheeks. He kicks aside the legs of the Gryffindor third year lying partly on top of him, immobilised by the older boy's timely jinx.

"Thank you," Felix pants, retrieving his wand from the floor.

"Bit old for you to go picking a fight with, isn't he?"

Felix scowls. "He's a mud-blood. He made a crack about my cousin."

The older boy makes a derisive chuffing sound and Felix looks at him more closely. Obviously in Slytherin, by his tie, but Felix hasn't seen him before. He's tall and well-built, exuding that casually confident air that Felix wishes for so desperately. He twirls his wand absently between his fingers, and Felix makes a mental note to practice that later.

"Mud-blood," repeats the older boy with something like amusement. "Listen kid, all that stuff about blood? It's a myth. Blood doesn't have anything to do with your magic."

Felix gapes at him. "But...my father says-"

" 'Rosier', right?" The older boy interrupts. "Yeah, you've got those old-fashioned sort of parents. Lots of people in our house do." The older boy motions for Felix to follow him and they set off down the deserted corridor. "Do yourself a favor," the boy continues, "Don't buy into all that rubbish. It'll hold you back from allying yourself with people who could be useful to you."

They come to a door at the end of the hallway, and the older boy opens it with a tap of his wand. Felix notices he doesn't have to voice his spell.

"Some of the most powerful wizards I know are muggle-borns. And the _power_ of your magic is what matters." They step out into a hallway Felix has never seen before. The older boy leads him toward a tapestry concealing a flight of stairs.

Felix isn't sure what to say. He's never heard anyone talk like this before. He realizes with a jolt that the boy must not be a Death Eater, the way he naturally assumes everyone in his house is.

"You don't work with the Dark Lord, then?"

"Nope. I only work for myself. Jump that step, it's a trick," The older boy warns, and Felix hops over the step in question hurrying to catch up with him.

"Choosing a side is just backing yourself into a corner," explains the older boy. He glances left and right before stepping off the staircase into a passageway Felix finally recognizes as leading to the dungeons. "Good guys and bad guys, right and wrong, that shit changes all the time. But you know what lasts forever?" The boy turns and winks at the open-mouthed Felix, "Treasure."

"What, like gold?" asks Felix awe-struck.

The boy raises an eyebrow mysteriously, "There's all kinds of treasure, kid."

They've reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The older boy gives the password and the wall begins to open. He motions with his hand for Felix to go through.

"Aren't you coming?" Felix asks hopefully. He isn't sure he understands any of what the older boy is saying, but it's fascinating and he doesn't want the conversation to end just yet.

But the older boy shakes his head. "Nope. Things to do. Just wanted to make sure you didn't get yourself cursed on the way back. The halls are dangerous right now."

Felix hesitates. "Do you think...you could show me that jinx sometime?"

"Wish I could, kid, but between you and me? I don't think I'll be around here much longer." The older boy winks again, and sidesteps Felix before he can ask anything else. "But there's a book on dueling hidden in the artefact room. Look through it sometime. And remember what I said."

"I will," Felix assures him, wondering which of the many strange things the boy has said in their short conversation he's talking about specifically. Felix walks dazedly through the entrance wall, then remembers something and whips around.

"What's your name?" he asks as the bricks begin to close between them.

The older boy gives him a lop-sided grin. "Jacob Windsong."

**Winter 1981**

"You are Felix _Rosier_!" His father pronounces, giving the last name an emphasis bordering on reverence."Rosiers do _not _give in the demands of peasants."

The first rule of the house is not to contradict his father. Felix knows this better than anyone.

"But my name doesn't mean anything anymore! Not to anyone at school! They-" The sight of his father's drawn wand makes Felix's throat constrict and his voice fade away to nothing. His father lifts the wand to point at Felix's torso and he flinches involuntarily.

"Doesn't mean anything?" His father repeats the offensive words, his voice low and deadly. "It is a pureblood name of the most noble history. A leader even among the Sacred Twenty-Eight." His dark eyes flash with fury as he intones, "It means _everything_."

Felix's insides writhe in silent despair. He can't decide which he fears more: his father's wrath or finishing his second year at Hogwarts.

The two months since the fall of the Dark Lord have been chaos. It's open season on anyone with even the most distant death eater affiliation. Felix has lost count of the number of times he's been hexed in the halls, even by students in his own house, desperate to prove to the rest of the school they're not one of _those _Slytherins. _We don't eat our own_, his prefect had said. But that's all gone to hell now, and his prefect with it. Like most of the house, he disappeared before the holiday break.

"Beauxbatons is just as prestigious as Hogwarts," his mother ventures timidly from her chair near the fire. "And the estate in France needs caring for. Why not go where the name will be appreciated?"

His father turns his glare at his mother, who lowers her eyes like a dog.

"Because we've lost a battle, not a war." His father begins to pace. "The Dark Lord will return. And if he doesn't, someone else will rise eventually. I will not abandon the cause, nor let Evan's death be in vain."

He shoots a dark look at his son. His father had never made his preference for Evan a secret. He often remarked in Felix's presence how much more satisfactory Evan was in every way.

Jealously sparks inside Felix, rekindling his nerve. "Father, I don't want to go back. I want to go to Beauxbatons. I-"

His father stops pacing and revolves on the spot to face him.

Felix's voice falters. "Please."

His father does not speak until he's towering over Felix. His voice is so low it's almost a whisper, but Felix cringes at the fury behind each word.

"There are more important things than always doing what you want." For such a slight man, his father takes up an enormous amount of space. He's all Felix can see. "Want is for children. For lesser wizards. Those who do not have the weight of a sacred name to uphold. Do you understand?"

Felix nods.

"Answer me." His father's hand twitches toward his pocket where his wand is hidden. Felix gulps.

"Yes, sir."

His father grips Felix's chin and jerks his head up to look him directly in the eye.

"Evan is dead and I am in disgrace," he says this without the least emotion. "As much as it pains me, you are the face of the Rosiers now." He relinquishes his grip on Felix, who keeps his eyes forward all the same.

"So, you will return to Hogwarts. You will excel. If they push you, you will push back. Harder. You will make the name Rosier great again. And you will _not_ disappoint me. Do you understand?"

Felix's dread has not abated. It still sits in his stomach like a leaden weight. But there's something else growing in him now too. This is what he's always wanted. A chance to prove himself. To prove he's just as powerful as Evan was. That he can be what his father wants. That he is worthy of his name.

Felix lifts his chin a little higher, trying to mimic his father's perfect, imperious expression.

"Yes, sir."

**Fall 1984**

"You're Felix Rosier?" the Gryffindor girl called Angelica glares at him, arms crossed. "Cousin of Evan? Son of that bastard who bought his way out of Azkaban?"

Felix is on his feet, wand drawn in less than a second, but all three of the train compartment's other occupants are right behind him. The four new prefects size each other up, wands raised. The tall, lanky Ravenclaw prefect called Chester speaks first.

"Let's just all take a breath, okay? It we start dueling each other before we ever reach school, they'll take our badges away." Chester sets his face grimly. "And I don't know about you but I worked hard to be here."

Angelica and Felix regard each other warily, each lowering their wand at exactly the same time. The short Hufflepuff prefect called Jane mutters something that sounds like "Babies." before tucking her own wand away.

The train gives a lurch as it rounds a corner, and all four are forced to resume their seats before they topple over. A very tense silence follows.

Felix keeps his face guarded, but his heart sinks into his stomach. This is exactly the sort of confrontation he's been dreading.

It's almost three years since the war ended, and the attacks in the halls have largely subsided. Slytherins still keep mostly to themselves, and Felix is no exception. But being a prefect has been his dream since his first year at Hogwarts, and he's not going to let anything get in the way of that.

"So, we're supposed to look over the list of rules and banned items." Chester references the roll of parchment they've been given to review. "It looks like they've added a few this year. First is-"

Angelica interrupts him. "How are we supposed to work with _him_?" She gestures at Felix. "He's practically a Death Eater."

Felix usually wouldn't rise to the accusation, but he's on edge. "I'm no more a death eater than you are a muggle, just because you're related to them."

Angelica calls Felix something that makes his eyebrows shoot up his forehead and causes Jane to let out an eerily high pitched laugh, but Chester grabs Angelica's arm before she can draw her wand.

"Okay, that's enough." Chester looks back and forth between the Sytherin and Gryffindor. "How on earth will we set an example for our houses if we can't even treat _each other_ with civility?"

Felix gives the Ravenclaw boy an appraising look. He knows Chester only by his academic reputation. The two of them have always been neck and neck for top of the class, and Felix has only ever regarded him with the same wary competitiveness appropriate to any rival. Now, he feels a grudging admiration for his fellow prefect's dedication to responsiblities over rivalries. It's an attitude he wants to emulate.

Felix slicks his hair down where pieces have come out of place and takes a deep breath, turning to face Angelica again.

"How about, I'll keep quiet about your family if you will about mine," Felix proposes, his voice as passive as he can make it.

Angelica narrows her eyes, inspecting him closely. Felix has the impression she's searching for a sign that he's mocking her and he keeps his face as conciliatory as possible. After a minute, she mutters, "Whatever," crosses her arms, and looks stubbornly out the window.

"Do you really not mind working with muggle-borns?" inquires Jane, her strangely bland eyes on Felix. It unnerves him how little expression can be gleaned from her facial features.

"I'll work with anyone as long as they don't get in my way of being Headboy," Felix announces.

"No promises there," warns Chester. "Slytherins aren't the only ones with ambitions."

"No, just the ones who know how to achieve them," retorts Felix.

The two boys size each other up across the compartment. Then Chester smiles and Felix smirks.

Angelica rolls her eyes hugely at them.

"How about a truce, then? Until sixth year at least? " Chester suggests, looking around at the other three prefects.

"Very well," agrees Felix solemnly, trying not to sound too eager.

Jane nods.

Angelica wrinkles her nose. "Fine." She leans over and snatches the roll of parchment from Chester.

The three other prefects sink back into their seats as Angelica begins reading off this year's newly banned items. Chester glances across at Felix and repeats his tired smile. Felix can't quite bring himself to smile back, it's not an expression he often indulges in, but he tries his best to look appreciative.

He allows himself to relax in his seat just a fraction, enjoying the heady sense of pride and accomplishment that emanates from the prefect badge finally pinned to his chest. This year, for the first time, Felix feels confident enough to handle anything Hogwarts throws at him.


End file.
